


An Artist Like Me.

by HailToTheRed



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Death, Gen, JUST, Murder, Other, Violence, idk what else, in his wonderful way, marco being psyhco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailToTheRed/pseuds/HailToTheRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nice oneshot to get back into writing him! First Psychopath!Marco fic I have up here! Plenty more to go!</p>
<p>An artist prepares his palette to complete his masterpiece; until the artist designs on a new medium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Artist Like Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First fic I have up here! Any mistakes you find, ignore them! I tend to write when I am sleepy ^^;  
> If you find something I can work on, please contact me and let me know!!

With every ending came a new beginning, at least that is what ran through his mind as tan hands reached for large, plastic buckets placed in the corner of the shed. He picked three, just to make sure that there would be enough to collect the paint as it transferred. A light tune hummed on his lips as looked over to his array of tools set on a metal bench, mentally checking that he had each in a neat order for his choosing. With a smooth gesture he turned and walked gracefully towards the middle of his working space.   
Marco eyed his palette with a grin. Golden eyes raking up and down the sight before him, oh how he adored it. There was something about what was in front of him that sent shivers up his spine; sparked a twisted love inside of him that curled and molded into a deep flame of never ending lust. He couldn’t help but let his teeth worry at his lip, trying to keep down the smile that threatened to break out on his speckled face. The longer he stared, the more the need grew. Knowing that if he continued before action he would be more brutal than usual. 

In a swift motion, the back of his hand made contact with the cheek of a younger man. The contact forced the being from the drug induced slumber Marco had put him under. Blue eyes shone easily in the dimly lit room; panic flashing through them before his body moved along with him, tugging at the chain that bound his legs to the ceiling. Sudden moving had him slightly dizzy from all the blood that had collected to his upper body. Marco firmly believed that it was easier and far better to hang them from the ceiling, by their feet to allow the blood to flow better. His delicate ears picked up the sound of muffled yelling from the male as he desperately bit and chewed on the metal bar stuffed into his mouth. The action only had the captor chuckling, not even attempting to hold back his wicked smile. Now the captive was tugging at his arms, looking to the side as he finally noticed that his arms were tied down firmly to a piece of long, flat metal shaped like a plank of wood. Marco liked watching the struggle, how they somehow grasped a glow of light like they had a chance to escape their impending fate. He loved the flash of pure emotion come over their features, through their eyes, and across their body like a delicate array of colors on the spectrum of feeling. 

The freckled man approached the other and bit down on his lip harder, his hand coming up and placing itself on the cheek he had assaulted. Marco rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin, and tried to keep his own noises of pleasure, of pure nirvana at what was to come, at bay.   
“Fear not my child, I can promise I will take only the finest of care of you,” he whispered but was only met with pathetic whimpers of the male. This was exactly why he was chosen. Though initial panic, his fight or flight instinct caused him to wither into an abyss of fear and darkness that ultimately acted against him, paralyzing him from ever really fighting. It was easier to keep them line, and to carry out his own desires for the specific design he wished to carry out. Sometimes he would capture a fighter and use it as a brutal piece of work, which was always so fantastic in the end. Being covered in the thing he loved most in this world, to feel it on his own flesh, and drip from his tool; how it pooled on the ground and splattered onto near every surface it could reach. The thought alone had him shiver all over again and his breath just a tad labored with how excited he quickly became.   
“Now, now, is that a way for someone as big and tough as you should be acting; or are you a dog whose bark is worse than the physical bite?” he chuckled to himself, loving the feeling of taunting the one in front of him.

Marco moved his way back to the table of tools and glided his hand over them all for a better feel of which possessed the most potential for the job at hand. A small tingle ran through his fingertips as he passed over the skinning blade. He let his index slide over the gut hook, eyes locked onto the steel form of the knife.   
“You see you don’t have to fear the future with me,” he began talking just for the sake of his own ego, an artist who has no one to talk to about his art is left alone to talk to his paintings alone. “You are going to die,” the words slipped off his tongue with ease. The victim began shaking, the sound of the chains shaking and clanking gave it away easily. Marco only picked the blade up and brought it up to his face, running the flat side of it against his cheek as he moved to walk around his prey. “I wouldn’t dare make you believe anything else, that would make me a rude host. You see, you’ll become something much bigger, much more than what you are now. You’ll become beauty in it’s most exquisite form,” He licked his lips and moved to a wall covered in a plastic which stood before the victim. The plastic distorted the view underneath, but the artist knew exactly what laid beneath. Another treasured work of art.   
“I firmly believe that,” he took a deep breath in and turned to the man dangling in the middle room, “In order for something to truly begin, another must end,” the victims sobs cut Marco off from his speech and caused a bolt of irritation to jolt through him. 

The freckled male raised his hand with the knife and threw it full force at his kill . The blade made impact on the upper right thigh, causing shrills of violent pain to fill the room. Marco huffed and stood for a moment as he noticed that the male was crying, letting drops of the salty water drop onto the buckets below. It was quite irritating to Marco that the fool was rude enough to interrupt him while speaking. Slowly he came forth, closing the distance and shook his head, staring down at the other with a soft, gentle expression, but amber eyes that were on fire with anger.  
“Look at what you made me do,” his tone was low, and slightly gentle. Marco reached up and pulled out the blade, making sure not to cause any more damage to the palette with the gutting hook. 

As it was pulled from the leg of the man, Marco watched the blood move out, flowing down the body and to his chest. The sight was incredibly alluring, causing the euphoric emotions earlier to return. He brought the blade close to his face again as he dropped down to be closer to the males face. Crimson shone in the eyes of the predator as he moved the knife in his hand to see both sides, from every angle, yet not letting a single drop spill.   
“You have a very pretty shade,” he whispered to the other, his tongue running along his bottom lip. Ever so slowly the knife was worked closer and closer to his lips until he could run this tongue along the flat surface, taking in the wonderful taste. Marco couldn’t help the moan that rushed through his lips; couldn’t help that the sight, the smell, the taste was exciting him in ways he thought had long passed. 

His eyes locked with the blue in front of him, seeing the sick curiosity that rang between the two. Marco licked up all the blood he could from the knife, loving how his prey watched; he could careless if it was out of curiosity, bewilderment, or disgust. Once all of it was gathered into his mouth he moved the bridle from the mouth of the other and shoved his lips onto his. Lips working against a mouth nearly screwed shut. In one sleek movement he had coaxed the other into opening his mouth a bit, and his tongue worked from there. Marco forced his mouth open and poured the saliva and blood mixture into his mouth, making sure that he wasn’t able to spit it out. As soon as he was satisfied he moved back a bit, letting the other have his moment to cough and spit what he could out.   
“You’re a sick bastard,” the male spoke, his voice slightly hoarse as his teary eyes gazed into the merciless amber before him.   
“You’re eyes called to me,” he moved back close and let his lips trace over the others, “for that, you may want to rethink who the real sick bastard is here,” Marco chuckled as as wide smile took place on his face. He moved away from the man, one had moved the bridle back into his mouth and the other wiped was left on the blade onto his pants. 

The predator took a step back and thought for a moment, looking at three specific spots on his target. The neck, and both wrists. He then glanced down at the buckets and smiled softly.  
“You’re probably wondering what comes next; you’re lucky I am in a mood to share,” he spoke as he moved, taking apart the buckets and setting them underneath all three points. “You see, the human body is absolutely magnificent. It was able to grow all these amazing organs, able to have such fascinating functions, but the most incredible of all is the blood,” he twisted the knife in his hand, “Blood is the life force, the soul thing that makes the body able to move and to go. Of course you need oxygen, proteins, iron, the necessities for blood, even a heart to disperse it! Though you see, without blood, we would die. Our bodies would not receive all that it does from it, would not be able to survive without the constant rush of warmth. Nothing would get what it needs.” 

Suddenly, Marco dug the blade into the arm of the man, making three large gashing into his wrists, making sure to cut into the artery. The male began shaking about and screaming in pain, the blood falling victim to gravity and began to pool into the bucket below. Marco kept himself from leaning forward and allow himself yet another taste of the beauty; instead he moved to the other arm and lightly trailed the knife over his skin, watching how goosebumps began to raise.  
“Blood is beautiful, no matter what. The sight, the smell, the taste, everything about it is so,” he raised his head in deep thought, eyes searching for word that could give his love justice, “Perfect.” was all he could say, all the could think. “I couldn’t help myself. Blood is art. I saw this from such a young age, but never had the capability to create these masterpieces in my mind. Until now,” with a manic smirk he dug the blade back into the victim, enjoying each piercing scream as he forced the flesh apart to make way for his crimson love to flow out. 

Marco then squatted back down to the blue eyed man and watched as he became drowsy. He snapped his fingers in front of him a few times to gain back the attention that had been lost. Until the other looked at him properly he continued to smack his face, snap his fingers, or even tell the petty male to give back the last bit of focus he had. Once eyes laid on his face and didn’t tear away, the freckled man took his knife and cut deeply into the side of his neck, severing the carotid artery in two which let a rush of crimson into the bucket. Marco let himself moan again at the sight of it gushing out, how it flowed smoothly like river. Moving the knife into his other hand he repeated the same motion onto the other artery. 

It wasn’t long before life was leaving the eyes of the man. Wasn’t long until he could see the blue begin to fade, getting slightly darker in tone; showing less fear and more of acceptance. This was the moment Marco always burned into his mind. How the eyes, the face, everything slipped into eternal slumber. Not even Marco really knew what he chose to remembered this part of them; no not their names, not their voices, or even the taste of their life force. This was the moment that had forced it’s way into his mind and made home. Though he really did not have the slightest clue as to why it happens, he chose to believe that maybe this was his own memorial for them. Remembering them in ways that no one else could, that he shared the most intimate moment in their lives, all at his hands. Marco hated thinking that he had a god complex, that he really enjoyed just taking lives for the sake of it. Of course killing was one of the pieces he loved about what he did, but not the sole purpose.   
Before he let his mind wonder anymore that it already had for the evening, he stood up and moved away from the lifeless body, grabbing a red towel from a small rack near the bench and gliding over to the closet sink near him. A small twist of the hand and cold water came rushing through, landing on the now warm metal beneath. Marco washed off what he could from the blade with the water and dried it with the towel. His face emotionless and near stone as he did so. Placing both objects into one hand and the other to splash water on to his face and to push back hair from his face. He looked up after straightening up to see himself in the mirror; tan skin, decorated with the light and dark freckles along his face, and down to his neck. His body was entirely covered in them. Marco eyed himself over and saw his button down and vest were all disorderly. Physically looking down he noticed the small droplets of blood had made his way onto his vest. Instead of becoming irritated with the situation, he just sighed and began stripping himself from the burden of clothing. 

Once he had finished taking his shirt off and laying out nicely beside his tools and placing his knife back into it’s collection, Marco bent over and picked up a small metal box and opened it. He rummaged inside, pushing away packaged needles, bandages, disinfectant, and other such medical equipment for any emergency that arose. He set out a large role of bandaging and another smaller roll of medical tape to secure it.   
He left all the equipment on the table and turned around, leaning his full weight against the metal. Marco let his hands idly run across his body, scratching, tracing, even moving up to play with his hair. His eyes could not tear away from the body in front of him. A smirk tugged on his lips, with a bit more force than usual the corners of his mouth turned upright showing his manic excitement clearly. The male exhaled deeply and inhaled, his eyes rolling back into his head as the intoxicating smell was now permeating the air. Somehow he had not noticed it before, the smell of the iron rich liquid had made it’s presence even more noticeable. Had it really been that long since he had cut the poor man open? Marco didn't want to waste his time on thinking such things over, though it tugged at the back of his mind where he placed his thought. 

With a roll of his head, a small pop, and a senseless smile plastered onto his face. Eyes a bit wider as one hand slipped back and grabbed a hold of a small, sharp scalpel being twisted around skilled fingers. Marco took small, slow steps forward as he sized himself up against the body. Arms crossed over his chest; one hand coming up to tap a finger against his chin, the other still playing with the tool aimlessly. He stepped as close as he could to the body, avoiding the puddles of blood on the ground that had missed the buckets. Amber eyes looked over the naked flesh with a sharp, criticizing gaze.  
“You should of taken better care of your skin,” he muttered to the body, looking down at the lifeless face and chuckling to himself, “No matter, not after your skin. Yet you seem like a piece of art yourself, maybe I should help you shine a bit more,” with an even more bizarre beam he brought up the scalpel and began to trace patterns into the dead flesh. 

Marco tapped his foot and hummed to himself as made sharp, delicate circles around his chest, around the much bigger piece. He made small loops, and plenty of intricate, lace like designs on the chest, and even the neck; making sure that he returned to every space and made a parallel lines from it.   
“Lace, it’s delicate, and yet sophisticated in design,” he began talking again the corpse, carrying out a one sided conversation, “I gathered that you are much like lace; far too fragile in heart, but in soul you were complex and divine,” Marco smiled down at the face and even reached down to tap at the bottom lip of the blonde before continuing to his work.

As time ticked on, he spent more gently cutting off the small layer of skin, as a post-mortem scarification tattoo. Marco loved how easily the skin cut under his blade. How it gave way to every slice, nearly peeling away as he snipped one end off only to begin a new strip of the design. It was wonderful to feel so in control of his art, how it followed his every unspoken demand from it. He couldn't help but to lick his lips as he worked, coming nearly drunk of the feeling alone. A piece of him couldn't back his giddy laughter, and harsh pants of pure adrenaline pumping through his system, forcing him to work harder and faster. A flash of manic inspiration cut across his face as he saw that little blood trickled out of a line he cut too deep. Marco sighed heavily while letting out small mumbles of words foreign to even it’s owner. He couldn't help what poured from his mouth, whether it was moans, of pleasure or excitement, maybe even the shaky whimper. Hands shaking too hard for him to do much other than hold the strip of skin in one had, barely even tugging; the other hand clung to the tool with a fierceness. 

Marco couldn't calm himself down, everything was forcing him into a high that drugs could only dream of taking him too. This art, this masterpiece of human flesh which settled under his tender fingers, sent him to a place in his mind that only the most horrendous of actions laid. Lost in his own mind as eyes went slightly hazy, still staring into the oblivion which was his work. He let his teeth worry on his lip again as he watched the pink muscle below come into better vision, slowly it all came into focus. The design was perfection. 

The middle of his chest was a large skull enveloped in lace, twin crow heads calling from each side.. It appeared as though the bone was nearly being consumed by the frail pattern surrounding it. He felt his labored breathing settle as he stared at it longer, shaking body becoming more stable as the design sunk in. The scalpel dropped from his hand, as well as the flesh which he had kept. Marco stepped back and raised his hands up and behind his head, not even minding that blood was smeared across them, tangling them into his raven hair. He couldn't tear his eyes away, the sight too captivating, too marvelous for anything other than proper appreciation.   
“Beauty. Beauty in death, even when man made,” he couldn't help himself but to inwardly praise himself for such a treasure. His expression beaming with untainted confidence, and pride; hints of love, satisfaction, and adoration settled into small features. “These are the moments that I live for,” words on a soft whisper that would never be heard other than himself. 

Marco took his time observing his work and making small adjustments to anything he found that was flawed. He touched up on the crows, adding more a of a feather like appearance, and gave the skull a bit more definition, letting it pop along side the avians. The freckled man strode to his work site and grabbed a hold of the bandage and tape. He brought the materials back and began to wrap the cotton like bandage around the wounds he had created on the corpses wrists and neck. Making it thick enough to capture each droplet he had missed, and forcing anything left trickling out to cease. He tapped each end down and bent down close to the victims face, picking up his tool from the ground and looking over to the barren shell which he had mutilated.   
“I told you that I would take care of you, I made you into something much bigger, and beautiful. Showed your hidden allure that others hadn't even considered peering at. Now, no one will be able to look away, my masterpiece,” Marco let his eyes flick around the others face, before leaning forward and placing a long, and deep kiss onto the body’s lips. 

Slowly, he pulled himself away from the body and forced himself away. The longer the blood stayed out, the easier it was to be spoiled for his other projects. Marco let out a small noise of aggravation, though mostly laziness since he wanted to lounge around and admire his work, but much was to be done. With a wicked gaze, and manic smile, he giggled to himself, “Oh you’d learn to love the arts,” came a small eerie whisper of a familiar tune, “If you were an artist like me.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can easily get contact me through my tumblr (hail-to-the-red.tumblr.com).   
> Also can see other things I've worked on c:


End file.
